Grocery shopping with Brandon goes like this:

Sabina pushes the cart. "You want this flavor?"

Brandon scrunches his nose. "No. Where's Papa?"

It's the seventh time he's asked her that. Sabina rolls her eyes and pushes the cart down the aisle. "He's at home, stop looking for him. Why am I not enough?"

And going to Brandon's soccer game goes like this:

"Oh, cute hat," one of the moms in the hotdog line say to Tristan, smiling at him.

Tristan smiles back and tips his ball cap to her. "Thank you."

When they sit back down, just as the game is starting, Sabina mocks in a high voice, "'Oh, cute hat.'" And she mocks in a deeper voice, "'Thank you.' The fuck?"

Tristan bites his lip, grinning and spreading his legs. "I was being polite."

Sabina snatches the hotdog from him with a sneer. "Hot daddy," she mutters angrily, biting the hotdog. Tristan is laughing.

When Brandon comes in the field in his little jersey and shorts and high socks, he searches the field for them. Tristan and Sabina both raise their arms and wave their hands, and Brandon's face lights up, waving back and jumping.

"He sucks at soccer," Sabina says, keeping her smile as she sends the kid a thumbs-up.

"He doesn't know that," Tristan says back through his teeth, still waving at the kid.

As expected, Brandon's team loses and his mood sours, head bowed and shoulders slumped as he walks with his little legs towards them. Tristan kneels to his level and cups his face. "You did great, buddy. You did your best, okay? We can try again next time."

Sabina puts her hands on his shoulders. "C'mon, Brand, you want some frozen yogurt?"

He raises his head to look at her, pouting. "Extra toppings?"

Tristan huffs out a laugh, shaking his head and running a hand down his face. Sabina nods, taking Brandon's hand. "Yup. Papa's paying, let's go."

And trying on his skirt goes like this:

"Isn't it girly?" he asks quietly, twirling around in front of the mirror. It's the skirt Sabina and Tristan got for him last Christmas, but he hasn't worn it, hasn't even tried it on since he opened the gift. Now that Sabina's put it on him, he has a frown and a mountain of doubt about wearing it. "Boys don't wear skirts."

"Boys and girls and everyone else wear whatever they want, baby," Sabina tells him firmly, squeezing his shoulders, kneeling behind him in front of the mirror. "And you look amazing."

He smiles toothily at her at the mirror. "Really?"

"Yes. Trust me, I'm a model." She grins and stands, offering her hand. "Come on, you wanna show Papa?"

Brandon nods.

He takes her hand and they leave the room, stepping into the kitchen, where Ian and Tristan are talking in hushed voices.

Ian sees them first. She stops mid-sentence, jaw dropping. Tristan twists around.

"You look so good!" Ian gasps, running to him. "Twirl around for me, sweetie."

Tristan has the biggest smile on his face. "You look great, Brand."

To Sabina, he squeezes her waist and whispers, "Thank you. He's going to want to buy more skirts."

"Let him." Sabina runs a hand down his chest and kisses him. "I'll buy them all."

Tristan's eyes twinkle, and he angles her chin upwards to kiss her again.

When Brandon decides he wants to keep the skirt on for the rest of the day, going to his toys, Ian turns to Sabina and clears her throat, crossing her arms over her chest. "I'm, uh, your jaw good?"

They haven't talked since the fight. Sabina purses her lips and tips her chin up to her. "Mm. Your, uh, hand? And the lip?"

"Good," she mutters, looking away. She clears her throat again. "I'm sorry about what I said."

Sabina waves her hand dismissively. "I'm sorry about the punch."

"Mm. S'all good."

"All good."

"Truce?"

"Truce. What's for dinner?"

"Ah, Chinese, what do you want? Tris and I were just about to order..."

And Sabina's friends meeting Brandon goes like this:

"Oh my God," Andy gasps, completely entranced, picking him up. Her eyes are glowing and her face is bright, and she looks like she has a lot of love to pour for the little boy already that his body can't contain. "Oh my God, hi, you're so cute, oh my God. I'm Andy."

Rhysand looks at Sabina. "Really."

Sabina shrugs with one shoulder, hiking Brandon's backpack against her other. "I look forward to more of Andy's pestering after this."

MJ comes up behind her and shakes her head, biting her lip. "Well, well. Never thought I'd see the day you come in with a kid's backpack on your shoulder. With an actual kid."

"How's motherhood treating ya, sweetheart?" Jenner asks teasingly, wrapping an arm around her.

"Oh, shut up, you assholes."

Andy covers Brandon's ears, eyes wide. "Sabina."

"Sorry." Sabina clears her throat. "Hey, are you going to put him down? He likes to use his little legs, too, you know."

Brandon clings to Sabina all night, and her friends watch them, intrigued, wondering how the hell, out of all them, did Sabina Kyle manage to be the first to have a child.

And Andy's looking at Brandon like she wants to eat him, but the kid has a great time. All her friends are good with him, and Brandon giggles a lot.

And making breakfast for Brandon goes like this:

"I want blueberry," he demands, sitting on his chair, taking his milk.

Sabina raises an eyebrow behind her coffee mug. "Blueberry what?"

Tristan smiles. "Anything. Last time, we had Whoopie pies. I also made him cobbler, and a blueberry lemon shake."

Sabina blinks and shoves her hand into her pocket.

Tristan laughs. "Easy food you can make with blueberries?"

"The kid wants blueberries." Sabina furrows her eyebrows at her screen. "Oh, I don't bake. No. Too difficult. The fu—fudge is this? Oh, okay—here! Move, I'm making a blueberry pie oatmeal."

Tristan smiles at her and winks at Brandon.

And spending Valentine's with the Bishops goes like this:

"This is from me. Happy Valentine's Day, Kyle." Tristan says, handing her a huge bouquet of red roses wrapped in black paper.

Sabina grins at him, raising an eyebrow. "I think roses die quickly, but these are beautiful and you're cute as hell, so I'm going to keep them. Thank you."

Her boyfriend rolls his eyes, but he leans down and kisses her head. "Yeah, you love me. Brand?"

"Happy Valentine's!" Brandon yells, running out of his room with a little bouquet in his hand.

It's smaller and brighter—pink and white roses wrapped in pink and cream, and there's a small face with two ears looking at her.

Brandon points at the rabbit proudly. "This is Tsuki the moon rabbit. That's what the website said when Papa and me were picking."

Sabina doesn't like stuffed toys, or rabbits, for that matter—but she feels her heart grow larger. She bends down and takes it with a smile. "Thank you, baby. I'll take care of Tsuki." Her hand cradles the back of his head and she kisses his hair. "Did you give one to Aunt Ian and to Junie as well?"

Brandon nods, puffing out his chest proudly. "Auntie got Sparky the Maltese. And Junie got Oink Oink the piggy."

Sabina huffs out a laugh. "Okay, that's good. Alright, boys, thank you for the flowers. Let's head out to dinner. Babe, hold this, please. Brand, come here, Sabina needs to fix your tie."

They end the day with chocolates and buying heart balloons, walking along the riverside, and Sabina gives both her boyfriend and his son a rose, too.

Brandon carries it with care all the way home.

Loving Brandon goes like this: it feels like an acid reflux. Sabina's chest burns, and it's difficult to swallow. It's the most uncomfortable feeling in the world—like her socks don't match. Like she just walked through rain in her clothes and they stick to her body. Like she needs to pee after knocking back too many drinks, and the line is too long and her legs are crossed.

But it also goes like this: a burst of energy at day—just enough for her to dream at night. Driving with the windows rolled down, hearing a new song on the radio and liking it—or hearing a new song on the radio and hating it. The very few seconds on a rollercoaster as it climbs up the lift hill, and building up the strength to scream.

*

On a particularly heavy work day, Sabina gets off the phone with her agency and struts outside, meeting Tristan in his desk, where he's eating blueberries out of his horrible and disorganized lunchbox (which Sabina found to be prepared by his son—explains a lot, really). She leans over his desk and singsongs, "Guess what?"

He's already smiling while he's chewing. He's wearing a gray tie today. Yum. "You landed the Mercy photoshoot?"

"And an interview!" Sabina cheers, doing a little dance. "Well, not exactly an interview. I'm supposed to be reading thirst tweets."

Her boyfriend leans back and raises an eyebrow. "Thirst tweets, huh?"

"Isn't that great?" Sabina asks, grinning. "It's not scheduled 'til the 30th, so mark it down."

"Okay." He grabs his tablet and types, and then he looks back at her. "Ah, the, uh, 30th is Brandon's Career Day."

Sabina blinks. "Oh."

Tristan's son asked them both to come to his school. The kids are supposed to be dressing up as their desired careers, and the parents come as their own. Brandon already asked Ian to come at first, but with her unpredictable and hectic schedule at the hospital, she gave him a "I'll see if I can come, okay?" with a ruffle of his hair.

And then suddenly, it gave him the brightest idea, and he turned to Sabina. "Oh, Sabina can come instead! She's Papa's girlfriend, after all."

Tristan was in the shower. Sabina didn't know how to respond.

Ian said, "Oh, bud, I don't think Sabina has time—"

"Please, please, please," the boy rattled off, crawling off the couch to run to her, puppy eyes activated. He put his hands together and jumped on his feet in front of Sabina, pouting. "My classmates always tease me for not having Mommy anymore and I really, really want you to come with Papa, please, please!" he whined.

Sabina didn't have a choice.

"What time was it again?"

Tristan bites his lip. "Three to five."

Crap. Her shoot for her interview starts at two, and her photoshoot starts at five. Sabina puts a hand to her forehead and purses her lips.

"I can just tell Brand something came up," Tristan offers gently, giving her a smile. "It's no big deal, Kyle. This is an opportunity in your own career and you don't want to miss it."

That is true. That is absolutely true.

And before, Sabina wouldn't have given a damn. She'd say, "Yeah, he's a big boy," and go about her day, and she wouldn't feel any guilt or shame or remorse when she's doing her work instead of being at a lame day designed to give kids faux freedom to choose what they want to do later on.

But it's different now, and just the thought of missing a day important to Brandon—lame as it is, Sabina's heart sinks. "He said he gets teased for not having a mom."

"He threatens to take them to court, I think he can handle a little teasing," Tristan says quietly, reaching out to take her hand and rub his thumb on her skin. "Besides, I'll be there."

She doesn't feel any better. She nods and smiles at him. "Okay."

*

Sabina calls Mercy. They said if she can't make it on the 30th, she'll have to wait another two months for an opening.

She says she can't make it and hangs up, shutting her eyes.

*

"Hey," Tristan breathes, stumbling into her room just as Sabina's curling her hair. He almost slips when he sees her. "Oh, fuck." She smiles at him in the mirror, fingers around her curling iron. "You like it?"

It's Andy's birthday today and her 'surprise' party is planned—as it is every year, just a regular party with all her friends. The only difference is that Rhysand's renting the most glamorous nightclub in the city—for the whole night and next morning.

He also offered to pay for the food and the drinks and the DJ, but Sabina held up her hand and glared at him. "Okay, rich and famous. Stop flaunting your black card. MJ and I are paying food and drinks, okay?"

MJ cleared her throat. "Actually, Sab, if he's offering..."

Sabina twisted her head to look at her, and her eye twitched. "We can't let the rich husband take all the credit," she whispered very, very loudly. "We've been doing this for years! Without him!"

Rhysand sighed, rubbing his forehead. "It was two birthdays without me, which is why I'm making up for it. And trust me, she won't know I paid for it, she'll thank you both."

"And she'll have our heads if we let you pay for everything, so no thanks." Sabina smiled at him sweetly. "C'mon, cough it up, how much are we looking at?"

Rhysand showed them.

MJ actually coughed. "Yeah, you know what, I think it's best if Sab and I handle just the food and the guests and the planning."

Sabina cleared her throat, brushing her hair away from her face. "Yup, that sounds good."

Tristan whistles lowly, leaning against the door with one hand on the doorframe, taking his time staring at her from head to toe. "God, I'm..." He laughs, running a hand through his face. "Are you—are you even wearing a bra? What the fuck is that?"

Sabina grins, letting go of the curling iron. Her hair falls perfectly on her shoulder, and she turns around to face him slowly, giving him the full view. "Nope. And body chains."

"Body what?"

She's in a knit bodysuit with an open back, a choker neckline and a plunging cut-out front, down to her navel. She's also wearing silver body chains, and they feel cold against her skin, but Sabina likes it. Tristan, apparently, does too. "I haven't partied since Halloween and I feel glorious."

He hangs his head back with a groan. "Kyle, you're gonna have to bark at whoever hits on you tonight."

Sabina faces the mirror again, finishing up her curls. She doesn't look at him, but her eyebrows draw together and she asks, "Why? Do it for me. You said I can dress slutty and you can fight."

"I can. But I won't be at Andy's party."

"What?" Sabina almost shrieks, putting the iron down before she burns herself. Tristan's rubbing the nape of his neck, biting his lip. "What do you mean? We haven't gone out in ages and the last time we partied together was in October. October! And my friends are expecting you and I need my man there because everyone else's man will be there. And, plus, you're already dressed." She says that last part in a whine, mood souring.

It's not the first time Tristan cancels on her, but it's the first time Sabina's feeling upset about it.

Tristan steps closer to her, putting his hands on her shoulders, massaging them. Sabina looks at him with an angry sneer, crossing her arms over her chest. "I know. And I know we made plans, I know how excited you are for Andy's party. But Ian got paged into an emergency surgery, and June's out sick, and I...I can't just leave Brandon alone, and I can't just take him to the party."

Damn it. It's hard to be angry when it's concerning his son. Sabina purses her lips and turns around, still a little upset—but she's trying not to be, because it's not his fault. It's not Ian's fault, not June's, and certainly not Brandon's. "Okay."

"I'm sorry," he murmurs in her ear, running his hands down her arms, pressing a kiss below her earlobe. "I'll make this up to you, honey."

"You better," Sabina mutters, tossing her makeup around. God, it's just a party, why does she feel so upset? "But it's..." she takes a deep breath, uncapping her lip gloss. "It's not your fault, so don't apologize."

"Mm." One of his hands moves around her waist and travels upward to her chest, fingers dancing along her sternum where the chain starts. "You're so gorgeous," he whispers, kissing her neck. Tristan presses his front to her back, his other hand squeezing her hip. "I'm hard, fuck."

"Too bad you're not coming to the party," Sabina says breathlessly, trying to apply her lip gloss while her boyfriend's shamelessly grinding against her. "And too bad you're not coming at all."

He groans in her ear, hand moving to her bottom. His other continues its tracing from her chest, slowly making his way down to her cleavage and stomach, toying with the chains. "I have to go," he breathes, pushing against her.

Sabina drops her lip gloss and turns around, cupping his face in her hands, thumbs brushing his throat. She presses their foreheads together and she gasps in his mouth when Tristan kicks her feet apart and slots her leg in between his. "Then go," she mutters, biting her lip, hanging her head back.

Tristan pulls at one of her chains, pressing his body to hers, and groans, hips snapping forward.

He pants, catching his breath, burying his head on her shoulder when he's done. "God," he gasps, squeezing her waist. "I don't wanna go, I can't leave you alone."

Sabina smiles, satisfied from watching his body crumble. "That's your fault." She leans up to kiss him sweetly, brushing her finger against his lip. "Drive safe, send me a pic of Brand when you get home."

"Okay," he murmurs, kissing her again, pressing his fingers to her throat. "Tell Andy I said happy birthday and that I'm sorry. And you—I've asked Denver to come but please also take care of yourself. Don't let anyone touch you, these body chains make you a walking sin." He runs his fingers through them again.

Sabina kisses him hard one last time, turns him around and smacks his bottom. "Go before I keep you here, I love you."

Tristan grins and grabs his keys. "Who's the embarrassing one now?" he teases before shutting the door closed.

*

The party is a blur, but here's what Sabina remembers:

1. Getting tipsy way before the birthday girl arrived.

2. Dancing with MJ and Andy as soon as the birthday girl arrived.

3. Shots. Lots of them.

4. Andy crying? Rhysand said yes to something, Sabina can't remember and honestly doesn't give a shit right now.

5. Dancing with Jenner. Being too close to him.

6. A nasty fight on the phone with Tristan.

7. And stumbling into his condominium building wasted, impatiently knocking on his door.

"Sabina," he hisses quietly, pulling it open, and Sabina immediately stumbles inside, eyes half-lidded. "Brandon's asleep and I told you to go home."

Sabina holds up a finger and slurs, "You said 'fine. Go home with your ex-fucktoy, I don't care.'"

He sighs, holding her upright by the waist. "I was angry because you threatened me with it."

Sabina dramatically gasps, eyes wide. "I threatened to cheat on you?"

"Because I couldn't go to the party and you were upset," Tristan says with a frown, mouth pressed into a thin line. "And you were also upset I caught you dancing with Jenner."

Sabina lets out an incredulous huff, pushing him away. "I cannot believe you spied on me."

"I cannot believe you were dancing with Jenner," he argues angrily. "I was just asking Denver what you were doing because you weren't answering me in hours and I was worried. He told me you were dancing with someone. I asked who, he didn't know his name. I asked him to send me a picture, and I find you body to body with him."

"I didn't cheat on you," Sabina says slowly, struggling to keep her balance. Her mouth is dry.

"Sabina, if you found me dancing that close with Camie, Harriett, or any other fucking girl, you wouldn't be as calm as I am right now."

She glares at him. "I was drunk. I am drunk."

"Then you shouldn't be here right now," he mutters, taking her arm. "You can't be drunk around Brandon, Sabina. Either sober up and crash here or I call Stan or Rhys or Adrian and you leave."

Hurt, Sabina stumbles into the kitchen and almost crashes into a stool. "Water, please."

Tristan sighs. He goes to get her water.

"I didn't mean to dance with him," Sabina says quietly, watching him with bleary eyes. Tristan doesn't turn around. "And I didn't mean to threaten to cheat on you."

A pause. And then, "Are you sure?"

Of the phone call they had, here's what Sabina remembers:

"What the hell are you doing, Kyle?" Tristan snapped angrily. "You're wasted and you have your ex-fucktoy's hands all over you."

"Well, you're not here!" Sabina shouted against the music, swaying her hips. "And he is and I needed somebody to dance with!"

"Are you...mad I cancelled on the party? Is that what this is?" he asked quietly.

"Nope, nope, I can't be mad, it's Brandon, why would I be mad? I have no right to be mad," Sabina slurred, raising her free arm over her head. "You, though! Why the fuck are you spying on me?"

"You weren't answering me, Sabina. What the hell else was I supposed to do? I was worried, I couldn't contact any of your fucking friends either—"

"Fine! Spy on me, you controlling piece of shit!" Sabina growled, feeling her head and body burn. "I'll go home with Jenner and you can't do anything about it because you're not here."

"You're not going anywhere, sit your ass down."

"You can't tell me what to do," Sabina snapped, rolling her eyes. "Hey, Jenner!"

"Fine," Tristan bit out. "Fine, go home with your ex-fucktoy. I don't care."

And then he hung up, and Sabina's here, on the verge of tears.

"Yes, I'm sure," Sabina whispers, squeezing her eyes shut. She lays her head on the table. "I was mad and upset and I...I didn't mean it, I'm sorry. I know I should never have said it and I never...I shouldn't have danced with him at all."

Tristan puts down a glass of water in front of her. "Drink." He takes a deep breath. "I'm sorry, too. For spying on you. For being controlling."

"You're not," Sabina argues weakly, shaking her head.

"That's what you said, Sabina. And I apologize. And I'm also sorry for saying I don't care if you went home with Jenner." He swallows hard, reaching over to brush her sticky hair away from her face. "I was hurt. And angry."

"I'm sorry," Sabina whispers pathetically, drinking the water.

She retches out the remaining alcohol in her system in the toilet. Tristan holds her hair back and kisses her head, and then carries her to bed.

He doesn't sleep next to her, though. He goes to Brandon's room.

*

When Sabina wakes up, there's a glass of water on the bedside table and a pill.

Head throbbing, she takes the pill and downs the water, and staggers to the bathroom to wash her face.

God. She looks like shit, and she's wearing Tristan's clothes. He must've dressed her last night.

Sabina closes her eyes and sighs, leaning against the sink, feeling her chest tighten. She doesn't know if she can fix this with Tristan, but she has to try.

She didn't mean it. She didn't.

Sluggishly, she brushes her teeth. When she's done, she finds her boyfriend in the kitchen making coffee next to Brandon, who's eating his apple slices, smiling at his father.

Sabina enters the kitchen quietly. She rasps, "Morning."

Tristan doesn't turn around, but Brandon's face lightens up, and he jumps down the counter to run and hug her. "Sabina! Good morning. Papa made bacon and eggs and coffee because he said you weren't feeling well." He slaps his palm to Sabina's forehead, features crunching together. "Oh, you don't feel hot."

"I'm okay, sweetie," Sabina whispers, taking his hand and smiling at him. She still feels like shit, but she feels even worse now—Tristan is making her breakfast even though she hurt him. "Thank you. Come on, finish your fruit."

He settles on his chair with his tablet, chewing his apple loudly.

Sabina steps closer to her boyfriend and swallows hard. "Tristan."

"Let's eat first," he says quietly, giving her a small smile, finally meeting her eyes. His are sore. God. "And smile, please. I don't want Brand to think there's something wrong with us."

Because there is, and Sabina caused it. She has a bitter taste in her mouth, but painfully, she nods and accepts the mug he's handing to her. "Thank you," she whispers, and goes to sit next to Brandon, mustering everything she has for a smile.

Breakfast is only chatty because Brandon keeps the conversation alive, but Tristan and Sabina don't look at each other. When the kid's gone to brush his teeth, Sabina takes the dishes and brings them to the sink, and she says, "I'm sorry."

"Sabina."

"I just..." Fuck. She blinked and she has a tear running down her face. Sabina's shoulders and whole body slumps over the sink, and she sets her palms on the surface, breathing heavily. It hurts everywhere, and she can't look at Tristan or her heart will break even more. "I had no right to be upset that you weren't there," she starts, squeezing her eyes shut. "Because we were okay when you left. We were okay, we were great. And I...I didn't mean everything I said, I didn't mean to dance with Jenner."

"You did it because you wanted to hurt me," Tristan says.

Sabina clutches her chest and shakes her head. "No. I didn't...I never want to hurt you, Tristan. Please, please believe me on this. When I agreed, what was on my mind was just 'Jenner's a friend, what harm can one dance do?'" She inhales shakily. "Please believe me, I didn't want to hurt you, it was not revenge because you weren't there, it wasn't punishment, it was a mistake and I should've known better, because you're right. If the roles were reversed, I would be screaming and crying because of how hurt I'd be."

Tristan is quiet. Brandon returns to the living room with his tablet as he crawls on the sofa, and he turns on the television.

Sabina presses her hands to her face. "I'm sorry, Tristan. What I said was also just out of anger because...because I didn't like that you were keeping tabs on me. I know you were worried. I know. I just...I have issues about that, but I'm sorry for saying what I said and I...I'm sorry for coming here. I shouldn't have been drunk around your son even though he was asleep." Her voice breaks, and she whispers that last part. "I made a lot of mistakes last night. I'm sorry, I love you."

He's still quiet. Sabina's panic rises to her chest. "Tristan, say something please. Please. I can't look at you."

She doesn't realize he moved—he stood and moved closer to her until he mutters, "Can I touch you?"

Sabina's body floods with aching relief. She nods, sniffling, holding out her hands.

Tristan reaches out his own and touches her skin, wrapping his fingers around hers, squeezing them and hugging them. Sabina lets out a loud sob, and he steps closer, pressing his body to hers, slumping his head on her shoulder. His breath fans her skin and shivers run up Sabina's spine, and he says, "I believe you."

Sabina squeezes his fingers. Her chest cracks, and she stares at the wall.

"And you hurt me a lot," he whispers brokenly, lips brushing her ear. "But thank you for apologizing. I'm sorry I made you feel like I was controlling. And I'm sorry for dismissing you last night when you came here to fix things."

She exhales shakily, leaning into his body. "Can you tell me if you still love me?"

"I do," he answers, turning his head to kiss her temple. "I do. Do you still love me?"

"Yes," Sabina breathes, squeezing her eyes shut again. "I'm sorry."

"I know why you were upset I wasn't there," he murmurs. "You've been patient every single time if it concerned Brandon, because you understand it's not my fault."

"Last night wasn't your fault either," she starts to say.

But Tristan shakes his head and continues, "We had a plan. We were going to the party for your best friend that you organized. We were going to have a great night and we were going home together to your apartment. But I had to take care of Brandon, like always. And it's not the first time I cancelled, Sabina, but it's the first time we fucked right before I left."

Sabina doesn't understand. "So? We always fuck."

"I think I made you feel like I used you," he says quietly. "I think I made you feel like something I had to do before I left, and I think I made you feel like I was choosing Brandon over you."

Sabina doesn't remember feeling like this. "That's not it," she mutters.

"You didn't finish."

"It doesn't matter if I didn't, I enjoyed watching you, I enjoyed you," Sabina says exasperatedly. "I was just upset because...because I think I'm just deprived of attention, but I can handle it. Brandon's a kid, of course you should be taking care of him."

He sighs, stroking her skin with his thumbs. "Sabina, I'm not choosing Brandon over you. It's not a competition—that's what you told me."

"I know what I told you."

"Then why don't you believe it?"

Because he's your son, Sabina wants to say, but she bites her tongue. Because I'm someone you can throw away in a blink of an eye. He's not. Because he's your child, he's your family, you and Ian are the only parents he has.

Sabina bows her head. Shame and guilt fill her veins. "Tristan, he's your son."

"And I love him more than anything. And I love you more than anything." He sighs, plopping his chin on her head. "Even though you can be a brat sometimes."

She manages a small smile.

Tristan asks, "Can you look at me now?"

Slowly, Sabina turns around. Tristan's eyes are red, too. "You had a right to be upset. I just wish you talked to me about it instead of lashing out on me."

Sabina nods, wiping her tears with the back of her hand. "Okay, I'm sorry."

"And I..." Tristan takes a deep breath, bringing his hand up to stroke his fingers down her cheek. He swallows hard. "Tell me if this is pushing my boundaries, but I want to be honest with you. I feel uncomfortable and anxious whenever you're with Jenner alone. Even before last night. I just couldn't tell you because I know you're friends. I trust you," he adds quickly, biting his lip. "I trust you, I know you would never cheat on me even though you said you would. But I don't trust him, and I..."

Sabina's hands move up to his neck, and she threads her fingers in his hair, pressing her forehead to his. She sniffles and nods. "Okay. I asked the same of you to Camie and to Harriett and you did it for me. So I'll do it for you, too. I won't be alone with him."

"Thank you," he whispers, closing his eyes.

"I'll be better," Sabina says, kissing him sweetly. Tristan cups her cheek. "I love you."

"I'll be better, too," he whispers back, kissing her again.